


with eyes like cinders all aglow

by aurilly



Category: Alice (2009), Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Background Relationships, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dimension Travel, Friendship, Gen, The Problem of Susan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edmund and Susan take matters into their own hands and arrange for new adventures to worlds other than Narnia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with eyes like cinders all aglow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WingedFlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedFlight/gifts).



> Thanks to shinealightonme for the beta and feedback!

Edmund weaves through clusters of tipsy Sloanies and awkward wallflowers before he spots his sister at the center, not only of a circle, but of the entire room. 

The unknowing courtiers make way for Edmund, just as they flock to Susan. It’s almost embarrassing that this happens, still, and here; strangers instinctively treat him like a king, before their brains remind them that he’s just an ordinary young man in his last year of university. 

“My brother, Edmund,” Susan trills as he joins her side, both by way of greeting and introduction. She reaches behind her and a drink for him appears in her hand, as effortlessly and naturally as one did so long ago in another’s hand, on a sleigh. 

Edmund’s learned over the years that not all qualities bad individuals possess are inherently bad. It’s something the others have never quite understood, but he and Susan see it all too well.

And anyway, this is only champagne.

“Mission accomplished,” he whispers into her ear as he kisses her hello.

“How wonderful!” she responds, her eyes intelligent and giddy, but, like the great politician she was and still is, she plays double duty with her remark and turns to present Edmund to the man by her side. “How wonderful to be able to introduce you to my brother. Colonel Smythe, this is Edmund. Edmund, Colonel Smythe.”

As he shakes hands with Susan’s circle of influencers, Edmund is reminded yet again of how wasted her considerable talents are in this second life of theirs—even more than his or Peter’s or Lucy’s are. He can see the despair lurking inside her, trapped behind that engaging smile. Luckily, he has a plan. He usually does.

Ten minutes later, they slip out, arm in arm, into the cool summer night. 

“That’s a rather lot of luggage for a simple cocktail party,” he says with a wink, about the two traveling packs she picked up from the coat check. He has a decent guess of what their contents are. Susan always packed for their ambassadorial adventures in Narnia.

“I don’t want to be like Lucy your last time, forced to wear boys’ clothes and run around barefoot.” She tries to pull a face, but can’t help but laugh (she hasn’t laughed in a while, not like this, not for real).

“Lucy didn’t seem to mind.”

“No, but I’m not Lucy. May I see them?” Susan asks, with restrained excitement (so many people nowadays only hear the restraint, not the excitement).

Edmund gingerly fishes the small cloth satchel out of his right pocket and unties the drawstring just enough to give her a peek at the glinting metal inside. He pats his other pocket. “I’ve got the other one in here.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“When do I ever get caught?”

“I can think of a number of times. The morning Lord Peridan found you dead drunk with Bacchus. Or perhaps I can remind you of the time Lucy found you in a highly compromising position with the—”

“Point taken,” he says. “Are you ready?”

She pulls him into a shadowy doorway out of sight of passersby. “Absolutely.”

They’ve both heard this story too many times not to know what to do: yellow rings to leave, green to plunge into new adventures. With their packs on their backs, Susan grasps Edmund’s right hand. He plunges his left hand in his pocket, and away they go.

* * *

The Wood Between the Worlds is exactly as advertised. Susan, in her infinite wisdom, packed a bag full of ribbons; together, they tie red ones around the three trees surrounding the pond they exit, and label them ‘home’ in Edmund’s neat handwriting. Then, at random, they pick a pond that isn’t close enough to be the most obvious choice, but not far enough away that the wood’s soporific effects have time to work on them.

First, they visit a tropical island with a volcano; it’s beautiful, but seems uninhabited. After a few hours of being chased by sentient smoke, they decide to try something else. Their next visit takes them to a glacier. Edmund can see men in the distance fighting what look like animated corpses; he wants to join in, but Susan reminds him that while she may have packed outerwear, they don’t have anything that will allow them to survive in these extreme conditions for long. 

More than these practical reasons, there’s nothing about these worlds that ignites the right feeling, that quickening of purpose they’re both seeking. They’ll never belong anywhere the same way they belonged in Narnia, but they still think they should feel _something_. Peter and Lucy simply miss Narnia, but Edmund and Susan more particularly miss having a place that needs them.

Their third try proves more promising.

Edmund looks down, but for a second thinks he must be looking up. 

Susan, with her clear head and steady hand, gently pulls him backwards; he didn’t realize he was standing on a ledge. A ledge that looks down into a canal, at the banks of which lies a roof. 

“What a strange place,” he says.

“There’s been evil here," Susan says. "Can’t you hear it?”

It sounds like silence, the silence of the forest during the White Witch’s reign. The silence of people who’ve been afraid for too long.

“Hullo there!” someone calls. They look over and see a white-haired old knight and a young man in a jaunty hat approaching them.

“How did you do that?” the one with the hat asks. “You just appeared. Out of nowhere.”

“We have our means,” Edmund says, playing it safe until they know more. 

“Are you Oysters?” the man probes. Susan looks at Edmund with confusion.

“’Oysters’ must be this world’s version of ‘Sons of Adam, Daughters of Eve,’” he whispers. Aloud he confidently replies, “Yes,” and hopes he’s right.

“We sent all the Oysters back to their world this morning. There shouldn’t be any of you left.”

“But here we are, as you can see. We’ve only just arrived, so we can’t be part of the same group.”

“The lady makes a point, Hatter,” the knight interjects.

“We would like to offer your world our services, where needed,” Susan says. Coming from anyone else, it would sound officious and ridiculous, but Susan has a trick of making anything sound gracious, and like an excellent idea.

“We should take them to the King,” the knight suggests.

“I’ve had just about enough of the King, thanks,” Hatter grumbles.

Edmund’s ears prick at this. “What’s this? Is he an unjust ruler?”

“Not at all,” the knight says. “Hatter here has only broken his own heart, and is blaming it on the King, who had no part in it.”

“Hey!”

The knight ignores him. “Come. My name is Charlie, last of the Knights. I will take you to His Majesty.”

Charlie proves to be a rum sort of fellow, and even apart from the labyrinthine alleyways and staircases of this ghastly city, Edmund thinks the trip takes longer than it strictly should; Charlie doesn’t quite seem to know a straight way anywhere. The Hatter fellow ends up trailing along behind, despite his previous protestations. He stares a little too long at Susan, in a way that normally would make Edmund want to box his ears, but…

“She reminds him of her,” Charlie whispers to Edmund, apropos of nothing (Edmund’s starting to realize that most of Charlie’s conversation is apropos of nothing). “She’s the reason Hatter’s following. She reminds him of his Alice. A true woman of adventure. A true queen.”

“That’s because she is,” Edmund says. “A true queen.”

Charlie pulls out a broken pair of spectacles and looks behind him at Susan, inspecting her. “I knew it! I have excellent vision.”

Edmund decides Charlie’s an absolute brick.

“This king of yours… What’s he like?” Susan asks from behind where she’s walking with Hatter.

“A knave,” Hatter says. “Quite literally.”

“Don’t be ungenerous,” Charlie rebukes him. “He is a fine fellow. King only as of yesterday. We deposed his mother, the Queen of Hearts. Things are already beginning to improve.”

“The Queen of Hearts?” Edmund exclaims. “Is this Wonderland?”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Hatter says. “Something you read about in a kid’s book. Well, it’s nothing like that, I’ll tell you from the start. Rubbish book based on a wildly exaggerated legend, from what I can tell. As if a little girl could save anything!”

“You’d be surprised,” Edmund says.

Soon, they reach a ramshackle old library whose intricate details betray its grand origins. Hatter informs them that this is the temporary court until they can restore the real palace, since apparently, until yesterday, the royal family lived in a casino instead.

(This is not at all like the story Edmund has read.)

This king of theirs, Jack, is tall, good-looking and sort of aloof, more like a Roman sculpture come to life than a man. He acts like one of the White Witch’s recently warmed-over victims, but then again, so do all of these odd, slightly cold people. But under all that, he seems an all right sort, and underneath his cool façade, just as green as Caspian had been on the day Aslan had sent them home. 

King Jack seems sad about something, and given what Charlie has said, Edmund can only guess it’s whatever Hatter is also angry about. The two of them won’t look at one another. Whatever’s going on between them, Edmund couldn’t be less interested; he’s too busy trying not to stare at the beautiful, mostly naked woman lolling beside the throne.

Charlie stammers over himself as he tries to introduce the siblings and explain how he came to meet them. In the end, Hatter interrupts and tells the story in a more straightforward manner. Edmund notes that whatever problems Hatter may have with the king, they at least seem to have forged a sort of grudging respect for one another.

Susan gives her most regal curtsey, one that gets even Jack’s attention. “We are former rulers of Narnia, a country in another world. I am Queen Susan. This is my brother Edmund, sometime King of Narnia, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table.” She sings his list of titles just as prettily as she ever did. “We rescued Narnia from the rule of an evil queen, and rebuilt the land. We know this sounds impertinent, but we simply want to help other lands overcome the same problems. Our services are yours.”

“But why?” Jack is suspicious, just as Edmund probably would have been if someone had come to him in Narnia with a similar proposition. “What can you possibly hope to gain from this?”

Edmund shrugs. “Nothing. To be honest, we’re doing this because we’ve been frightfully bored.”

That’s only part of the reason, but Edmund isn’t about to explain to strangers how he wants a chance to do it right from the start, without being a rotter first. It’s a debt of honour he owes to himself. But mostly, he’s doing this for Susan, as well as for a lark. He can already see her coming into her own as she casts her eyes around the room, sizing up everything and everyone she sees with unassuming and innocent-seeming grace. Even if he feels guilty for keeping it from the others (they would never have approved), he knows digging up those rings is the best idea he’s ever had. 

“You are even younger than I am. How can you have already had experience in rebuilding a kingdom?” Jack asks. It’s a perfectly reasonable question, but something about his naturally condescending tone triggers a nerve.

“You think we’re no good,” Edmund says, getting defensive. “Come on, Su. If we aren’t wanted…”

But Susan’s temper has always been longer than his. “We were only children when we were in Narnia. We reigned for years, but when we went back to our world, it was as if we’d been gone no time at all. Shrunk back to our proper sizes and ages.”

“Sounds like they’ve been at Caterpillar’s mushroom garden,” Hatter mutters. 

“They say it’s like that sometimes with the Looking Glass,” Jack says to Charlie, looking thoughtful, almost convinced.

“Test us, your majesty,” Susan presses, seeing her advantage. Edmund notices that Jack responds more favorably to her than to him. _Typical_ , he thinks, and finds himself almost as irrationally grumpy with Jack as Hatter is.

“I will vouch for them,” Charlie pipes up.

“On what grounds?”

Charlie just taps his finger to his nose and giggles slightly. “I can smell it.”

* * *

“This way!” Charlie yells over the sound of the dishes and pots hanging off his clanking horse. Edmund wonders how he has ever snuck up on anybody, riding around like that. Hatter has come along, too, for want of anything better to do. Even though he’s happy that Wonderland is back on the right path, he still grumbles that Jack’s reign has put him out of a job.

Edmund decides that his next project will be to shake Hatter out of this funk.

But first things first.

The Jabberwocky is just as nasty as it sounded in the book. 

And it really does burble as it comes. 

On both of his return trips to Narnia, it took a couple of days for Edmund’s fingers to remember their old strength and prowess. But this time, he needs neither magic nor time. He’s been on the fencing team at university, and even though the rules and skills are different, he’s used to this now.

“I have an ingenious plan for trapping—”

Edmund pulls down the visor of the armour Charlie has lent him and unsheathes his sword, King Edmund once more. “There’s no need, Charlie. This should be simple enough.”

Charlie covers his eyes and practically falls off his horse when Edmund engages the beast. It has vicious breath, like spoiled milk and garlic that have been left out in the sun for days ( _that_ wasn’t in the poem, Edmund thinks). He runs circles around it, getting an idea of how quick it is on its feet. Once he’s identified its weaknesses, he goes for the thinnest part of its long neck and hacks. Three strokes is all it takes to fell the monster.

He stands triumphantly over the corpse, expecting Charlie and Hatter to come running up to him. When nothing happens, he turns around to see what happened.

“Charlie, you can uncover your eyes now,” Hatter says from where they’ve been hiding. “It’s all over.”

“You have slain it?” Charlie asks, peeping first out of one eye. Then he runs up to Edmund and pulls him into his arms.

“Calooh! Callay!” Edmund shouts, because he thinks he ought to.

“I beg your pardon?”

* * *

By the time they come galumphing back to the library a couple of days after leaving, Susan, with the help of the Duchess, has already spoken with and charmed every member of King Jack’s tentative court. She has a list of everyone who is secretly opposed to the new regime and wants a return to the days of mass kidnappings and the tea trade. She also has a list of talented individuals whom Jack has inadvertently overlooked and who may be of service as he rebuilds the kingdom.

She and Jack are almost nose to nose looking at her notes, in the middle of discussing her findings and proposed strategic allegiances when Edmund, Charlie and Hatter come in. Edmund deposits the beast’s head on the floor in front of the throne.

“Still think we’re no good?” 

Jack clasps him on back. “My apologies, your highness, my friend. You and your sister have more than proven your worth and good intentions. You are welcome to remain a part of my court for as long as you wish. I will see that a suite of apartments is made up for you.”

“Hatter can share with me,” Edmund offers. (He’s always been just as crafty as Susan.) 

“What? What’s this?” Hatter asks, surprised.

Jack purses his already thin lips. “If you wish.”

“What was that about?” Hatter asks later, when they’re lolling on giant circular beds in a room that’s stacked up to the ceiling with books and, interestingly, croquet balls. Susan has her own room adjoining. Even though it’s in a very different style, Edmund hasn’t lived in this kind of luxury since Narnia. 

He props himself up on his elbow and looks over at Hatter on the other bed. “You remind me of an old friend of mine. A dear little friend, who was very skeptical and very grumpy, but who was an excellent chap underneath. You and Jack would get along splendidly, if only you’d get over this rubbish between you. I’m going to make sure you do.”

Hatter snorts. “I am not going to be set up. Not even as friends. And not with Jack.”

“Oh, hush, Hatter!” Susan calls from her room. “You’re more stubborn than a mule. And I’ve known some extremely stubborn mules.” She comes to stand in the doorway, looking quite lovely in her new Wonderland clothes, which are fetching, but thankfully less scandalous than those of the Duchess.

“Tell me, really. Why are you two here? What’s in it for you?” Hatter asks again.

“Going back is hard. It isn’t something you ever get over,” she says softly, and then adds, “Even though she chose to leave, I’m sure she won’t get over it either.”

“Who? Get over what?” Hatter asks innocently, fooling no one. 

Edmund chucks a pillow at his head.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves at home in Wonderland. There’s lots to see and plenty to do; more than there ever was back in England.

More importantly, Susan seems more like herself—her _real_ , best self—than she has in years. She makes friends with the Duchess (who is really quite nice once you get to know her), and helps Jack draft plans for the new and improved palace. She helps him write good laws and cleverly spreads (mostly true) rumours about his good sense and honour. 

Charlie’s besotted with her, in his knightly way. He calls her Susan of Legend, which at first annoys Hatter, but soon, even he agrees, and admires her just as the rest of the kingdom does.

It turns out that some of the members of the Resistance didn’t necessarily care about overthrowing the Queen; they simply itch to resist, against whomever might be in power. When Dodo’s militia infiltrate the throne room one day and aim their guns at Jack’s head, it’s Susan who, while promenading on the upper balconies, plays sniper and subdues them while Edmund shields the king with the clever use of an empty plum-cake tin.

(Edmund’s been spending too much time with Charlie.)

It’s taken longer, as he’s nursing what Edmund’s been told is a broken heart, but after this, Jack falls under Susan’s sway, too, only _not_ in a knightly way. Edmund swallows hard and looks away when their hands touch, increasingly, and as they sit a little too close together, whether laughing at state dinners or side by side on horseback from one ambassadorial visit to another. He reminds himself that Susan can take care of herself, and anyway, even though he’s a bit stiff, Edmund likes Jack. Likes him loads more than he liked any of Susan’s boyfriends back home. Or even the ones in Narnia. 

“Jack has a type,” Hatter mumbles one day, more generously than on that first afternoon, as he and Edmund brush their teeth.

“Does he? I simply call it ‘good taste.’”

* * *

While Susan wins hearts (both literal and metaphorical), Edmund makes a name for himself as the bravest and wisest man in the kingdom—second only to the king, of course. (Well, not actually, but Edmund’s accustomed to being second-in-command, the brains behind the magnificent face of the throne; he prefers the freedom it allows him.)

Once Jack and Susan have things in hand in the capital, Edmund and Hatter help Charlie rebuild the City of the Knights. They round up volunteers to carry on the Order. Edmund teaches them actual fighting skills befitting a knight, to complement, but not entirely replace Charlie’s endearing inventions. 

“And here, my pupils,” Charlie projects through a makeshift blow horn, “is how you defend a city’s perimeter against a siege.” He begins a lecture involving something about bees and sandwiches.

“As a supplemental lesson,” Edmund interjects kindly, once the students are all thoroughly confused, “I propose we practice using archers as a way of depleting their ranks before the invading force gets close to the wall.”

“What an ingenious thought, Lord Edmund,” Charlie says. 

(Edmund and Susan have been given titles; he prefers his old Narnian ones, but Susan is quite taken with her many formal roles, which include ‘Chief Foreign Policy Advisor’ as well as ‘Mistress of the Quadrille.’)

Wonderland was as cracked as the mirror it used to use, but slowly, together, he, Susan, Charlie, Hatter and the Duchess help Jack mend it.

* * *

Months pass and Edmund’s university thesis is all but forgotten. In fact, it really _is_ forgotten. Edmund can feel all of his previous lives slipping away from him, just as they did before, in Narnia. He tries to hold onto them in a way he was too young to have done the first time.

Susan doesn’t have quite the same level of motivation.

“Do you think they miss us?” Edmund asks one night, as they stare up at the stars together, with full bellies and vision clouded by entirely too much wine. Jack and Hatter, now thick as thieves, can be heard nearby, plotting pranks against the Ten of Clubs. Edmund catches unconnected phrases amidst the drunken laughter, something about ‘upside down spades’ and ‘red bleach’ and ‘jam every other day’.

“It’s hard to miss people when they aren’t even gone,” Susan replies. “I’m sure if we get back, it’ll only have been a minute, like it always is.”

Edmund registers the ‘if’, where a ‘when’ should be.

“What do you mean, only a minute?” Hatter asks, as he leaves Jack and crawls over to them.

Susan explains how it always worked for them before, and Hatter grows thoughtful. 

“I like that. Never having to miss someone. Picking up like no time has passed.”

They all know what he’s thinking about, and it’s rather transparent when, five minutes later, he asks, yet again, for stories about their world. He likes the little details the best, like Susan’s beautifully sung renditions of Cole Porter songs, Edmund’s tales of drunken punting at Cambridge, and the particular rules of war rationing.

Jack comes by to add to the tales. His stories make little sense, though. The names of places are the same, but the things he says about his time in their world sound like a Wonderland version of something Edmund and Susan can hardly imagine⎯strange even for America. Telephones one carries in one’s pocket, women who teach Japanese fighting techniques, a box that brings the cinema into every home. (Edmund and Susan are convinced this Looking Glass the Wonderlanders are always on about goes to a different world entirely, one that’s just a shadow version of theirs, all topsy turvy and impossible.)

“My lady. My friends,” Jack says when it’s entirely too late. “Shall we go back to the palace?”

He helps Susan to her feet, and Edmund can’t help but notice how easily she has learned to lean into him. He watches as Jack presents her with a rose, out of nowhere, and how she rubs the small of his back in quiet delight.

He’s a slippery one, Edmund’s learned. As sneaky as a cat, but secretly just as fond of petting. 

Susan’s always liked cats.

* * *

Edmund dances with a bevy of beauties at Jack’s birthday ball, but his eyes are too busy scanning the room for his sister to pay court to any of the silly, tittering women in his arms.

(He’s never had much patience for batting eyes and heaving bosoms; give him a girl with a merry laugh who can argue circles around him and isn’t afraid to make a fool of herself for fun. His sisters have ruined him for other women.)

He finally extricates himself and goes in search of his friends, all of who have trickled out of the Great Hall. 

In a side room, he finds the Ten of Clubs naked and bound in a vat full of jam. Beside him, the Duchess meticulously licks strawberry puree off his face. Edmund grimaces in disgust and leaves before they notice his presence.

He ought to tell Jack and Hatter that their prank didn’t work _quite_ as planned, but he’d rather not think about the sight he’s just witnessed for longer than he has to. Charlie’s had a feeling about the Duchess and Ten of Clubs for weeks now, but no one believed it. Edmund reminds himself to tell Jack that he owes Charlie a batch of tarts for losing the bet.

Next, he discovers Hatter closeted with Caterpillar in a small reception room off the main hall. The air is thick and heavy with sweet-smelling smoke. As soon as they see him, Hatter begins spouting nonsense that is too convoluted to understand, even for Wonderland. Edmund excuses himself, coughing violently into his green velvet handkerchief. 

He goes on the balcony to replenish his lungs with fresh air, and finds Susan teaching Jack how to play croquet properly. They’re using giant eyeballs instead of regular balls. 

They look genuinely delighted to see him, and invite him to play, but Edmund knows better.

In the end, he finds Charlie sitting by himself on the rooftop ledge, looking quietly at the city’s twinkling lights. 

He sits beside Charlie, and together, they count the chimneys to pass the time. It’s no longer silent out there in the world; Edmund can hear not only the music of the party, but also shouts and cheers and the cries of babies calling for their mothers all over the city.

"Do you think a coward can ever be forgiven?" Charlie asks after a few minutes.

"Traitors have been forgiven. I know this only too well. Therefore, I would assume cowards can mend, as well."

“May I ask a boon, oh king from another land?” Charlie asks quietly, and with a normalcy that indicates a special seriousness. 

“Of course.”

“Every day, I am tortured by the knowledge that I am a fraud. I was never knighted. Not properly. And yet I lead all these men you and I have trained.”

Edmund gets to his feet and draws the ornamental sword he carries at formal events like these. Charlie kneels at Edmund’s feet. 

“I name thee, Charlie, knight of Wonderland. And by the power I retain as king, a knight of the Order of Narnia as well. Serve thee well, sir.”

Charlie shudders as Edmund passes the sword from one shoulder to another.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. Not since I was a boy and discovered the art of invention.”

* * *

“I have a suggestion,” Edmund says one day when he thinks it’s time.

“Anything you wish, Lord Edmund.” 

“I think you should reopen the Looking Glass just one more time.”

Jack smiles, a real smile, the warmest one Edmund has yet seen out of him, even though he _has_ been thawing, for quite awhile now. “For Hatter? Yes, I had intended to. I was just waiting for him to ask.”

“Does it have a time function?” Susan asks. “I mean, can you set it to place him when she came through?

Jack nods. “I think that would be nice for her. For them.”

Edmund, Susan and Jack make a game out of manipulating Hatter into asking Jack himself. He stammers and stutters the request, speaking too quickly and with too many extraneous words. 

“It’s just… I’ve always wanted to try this sushi she mentioned. And perhaps… oh, I don’t know… the art of karate may prove useful if… I mean, when… I come back. She would be good at PR, you know. And… and christenings…”

They end up laughing at him before he’s done, and Jack puts him out of his misery. “I would never stand in the way of Alice’s happiness, nor yours, my friend.”

Edmund sticks his hands in his pockets, more like the university man he’s going to be again, and less like a Lord or a King ( _and that’s all right_ , he realizes). “I think that’s my cue, as well.”

“You don’t mean to leave us?” Jack asks.

“Oh, Ed!” Susan throws herself into his arms. He knows it’s because she isn’t coming with him.

“It’s like when we finished helping Caspian defeat the Telmarines,” he said. “The job’s finished. Jack’s all set. My story here is done.”

“And you, my lady?” Jack asks hesitantly, holding his hand out to her. “Is your story here done as well?”

Susan takes it. “Not if you would have me stay.”

“Forever.”

Edmund doesn’t need to be told to know how their story ends, too.

“How should we do this?” he asks.

“Take the rings,” Susan says. “If I need to get back, Jack can send me through all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. I’m sure there will be the usual muddle about time.” She smiles through her tears. “But you can always come visit. No matter when it turns out to be.”

“What am I to tell the others?”

“Whatever you think is best. No matter what you say, I doubt they’ll understand. But you do, and that’s all that matters.”

Edmund hugs his sister one last time. It _is_ the right thing for her. She did a better job of acting like she was able to jog along in England than the others, but she’d secretly always been the most miserable. But here, surrounded by her admirers and with responsibilities befitting her gifts, he can see that the emptiness inside her has been filled. And Jack is a brick. 

“Look after her,” Edmund says, and in some cases, the tone of a little brother is more threatening than that of a king.

“I think she’ll be looking after me. Thank you, friend.” Jack surprises him with a hug.

Next, Edmund says his goodbyes to Hatter and Charlie. Charlie sniffles throughout.

“My Lord.”

“Bravest and best of knights.”

“Maybe we can all go for pizza together,” Hatter suggests, trying his best not to betray any soppiness.

Edmund only has a hazy idea of what that means, and has a feeling that wherever Hatter ends up, it won’t be anywhere Edmund can find him, but he doesn’t want to disappoint or frighten his friend, so he tries not to let his eyes wet Hatter’s jacket when he hugs him tight and tells him he looks forward to it. 

They do it all over again the next day, but this time with less blubbing and in front of the full court, which gathers to wish Hatter and Lord Edmund farewell, as well as to celebrate the engagement of King Jack Heart (third time’s the charm, Edmund hopes) to the Lady Susan.

Hatter’s mode of travel is flashier and the ceremony of the ring and the mirror distract almost everyone. In the end, only Susan sees when Edmund slips on his yellow ring and vanishes from the Great Hall.

* * *

And so it came to pass that Susan of Legend ceased to be a Friend of Narnia. But Narnia had friends enough.

Wonderland needed a Queen.


End file.
